The Valley of Blackheath
by jessseri
Summary: Someone from Justin's former gang days interrupt his life at Dalton with Charlie.  Chustin.  CP Coulter's Dalton-verse.
1. Bellflower

**Hi guys! As always, I own neither Glee nor CP Coulter's Dalton. I **_**do**_** own Sam and the story.**

**I hope you enjoy and I'd love to hear your thoughts!**

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><p>Justin had decided he was in love with Charlie approximately six months ago. Seconds later, he had decided that Charlie reciprocating was about as likely as Justin causing hell to freeze over. And as far as Charlie was concerned, Justin was fairly close to right. Charlie had never thought about Justin that way. But it was not hell freezing over that would change this – it was a phone call from Laura.<p>

Justin reached across the bed where his phone sat, but it was too far away. Charlie glanced at the vibrating phone and tossed it to his friend, who smiled in thanks.

"Hello?" Justin asked, answering it too quickly to look at the caller ID.

"Hey, Justin." He recognized his sister's voice immediately, but was thrown off by the sound of worry echoed within it.

"Laura, is everything okay?" he asked, startling the boy across the bed who could not hear Laura's response.

"Are you –" she whispered the next part, either to avoid Charlie hearing if he was present or to avoid her parents hearing. Probably for both. "- still in love with Chaz?"

Justin's eyes flashed and he looked up at the boy in question who still wore an expression of concern. Meeting his eyes momentarily, Justin looked away toward the window – toward anything that was not Charlie.

"Yes," he answered discretely. "Why?"

"Like _really_ in love? Like nothing could change it and you wouldn't want anything to come in the way of that?"

"Laura what are you talking about? What's coming in the way of –" He stopped himself short, and simultaneously hoped that the first half of the sentence would be enough for Laura to understand and not enough for Charlie to question.

"Sam. Sam is going to get in the way –"

Justin froze at the name. He looked like someone had just shot him in the back, and Charlie instinctively put his hand on Justin's shoulder to comfort him. But this only seemed to scare Justin more. He snapped his head around so he could see this action and then quickly got up to leave the room, leaving a confused Charlie with his arm still outstretched.

Justin wandered down the hall, voice hushed until he could find somewhere private to talk.

"I haven't talk to Sam in years," he quietly barked, trying to disregard Laura's threat.

"He came by the house today, trying to figure out where you were now." She sounded apologetic.

"And you _told_ him?" Justin let himself yell a little as he found the common room empty and closed the door behind him.

"No, I didn't _tell_ him." Laura did not raise her voice, and Justin suspected that she was trying to hide this conversation from their parents. "He stormed in and I tried to get him to leave but he was asking me questions and I wasn't answering and finally he just grabbed a piece of mail off the table and left.

"Justin, I think it was from your school."

Justin didn't drop his phone – though he wanted to. He didn't scream – though he wanted to do that too. Instead he just stared at a knot on the wood-sided wall.

Then, in a voice barely audible to himself, let alone to Laura, he asked, "Why?"

"He said he loved you, Justin," she croaked. "I shouldn't tell you, because he deserves to tell you himself –if it's true. But he said he wants to earn your forgiveness. He said he was sorry. He said he _had to tell you_ how sorry he was."

Justin's breath was shaky. "Laura, I can't –"

"I know, Justin, I know," she sounded worried again and Justin knew she would be hugging him if she was here. "I wouldn't have told him. I didn't want him to find you."

"Do you believe him?" Justin posed the question that repeated in his mind over and over again.

"I don't know," she sighed heavily and continued. "I think he meant it – but Justin you can't trust him. After everything he's done…"

Justin was silent. Laura was voicing everything Justin was thinking, so he had nothing else to say.

"Justin, what about Chaz?" she probed.

"What about him?" Justin's voice rose so that he was almost yelling.

"You love him."

"Of course I love him. You know that."

At this point, he was loud enough that the boy outside of the common room door could clearly hear what he was saying. Hearing this was what kept Charlie from opening the door.

"What about Sam? Do you still love him?" she pushed further. Justin wondered how she could expect him to have clear answers to any of this when she had just sprung it on him.

"Laura, I don't know. I haven't seen Sam in years. The last time I saw him I told him to burn in hell…"

Justin was losing the bark in his voice, so Charlie tried to crack the door open so he could still hear. But the door was old and creaked as he did so. Justin turned toward it, and Charlie gave up on his stealth mission.

"Laura, I'll call you back later," Justin concluded, closing the phone without waiting for her goodbye.

Charlie closed the door behind him and approached his best friend. Neither said anything but stared at each other awkwardly.

"Are you okay?" Charlie finally offered.

Justin slumped down to sit on the arm of a couch. "No. But it's no big deal."

"It sounds like a big deal," Charlie stepped closer to the couch.

"It's nothing. Just stuff from the past catching up with me."

"Sam?" Charlie gave the word like it was a clear question.

Justin hummed nonchalantly, either not understanding the question Charlie didn't pose or not wanting to answer it. Charlie suspected the latter.

"Who is he?"

Justin sighed, "He's the one who betrayed me."

"The arson thing you got framed for?" Charlie sat down on the couch beside the arm his friend sat on.

Justin considered whether he should correct his friend about just how involved he _was_ in the arson, but decided it was a waste of time. "Yea…Roughly."

"Why do I get the feeling that's not the only thing that's wrong?" Charlie squinted his eyes and gave his friend a funny gaze.

"I don't know," Justin looked at Charlie strangely. "Why do you?"

"I, uhm, heard what you said on the phone," he mumbled awkwardly. When Justin didn't say anything he clarified, "About loving him…?"

This took Justin aback. His mind raced, considering all of the conversation that Charlie could have heard. Absentmindedly, and to his later regret, he whispered involuntarily, "I don't remember saying anything about loving him…"

"You said 'of course I love him,'" Charlie quickly corrected.

"That wasn't abou-" Justin stopped himself just in time. That would have been terrible mistake, and in an effort to avoid it, Justin made a different mistake. "I don't still love Sam."

"But you did?" Charlie sounded accusatory, and Justin would have been glad if he realized it was out of jealousy.

"Stop being so astute, Chaz," Justin snapped. He felt guilty being so private with Charlie – being able to be completely honest was the best part of their friendship.

Charlie looked hurt.

"I'm sorry, J," he muttered, making a move to get off the couch.

But Justin grabbed his arm to make him stay and slid down from the arm to sit beside him on the couch. Charlie had been sitting near the arm already, so they were close. It made Justin nervous, but Charlie soon moved over a little bit to the improved comfort and regret of both boys.

"No, I'm sorry, Chaz," he frowned. "I don't want to lie to you; it's just awkward."

"Justin, I won't care if you're gay," Charlie blurted out as if he was nervous to say it, but the firm stare directed at him told Justin that Charlie did not regret asking it.

"I'm not…_gay_," Justin fumbled over an explanation he didn't really know himself. "I guess I'm bi. I don't know, that's not why it's hard to say this –"

Well, it wasn't the only reason, but Justin was still lying. But Charlie looked at him so sweetly – as if all he wanted to do was make Justin feel better. This was, in fact, what Charlie was thinking, and maybe knowing that would have made things easier for Justin. Slowly, Justin took a deep breath and decided to start over.

"Imagine the worst possible ex relationship you can think of," he began to explain. "But then triple it. And add the complexity of the arson and the gang and the betrayal.

"It's just not something I wanted to have to deal with. The last time I ran into Sam was sophomore year at New Years."

"When you came back beaten to shit? I thought you said you started that fight?"

"Well, I started the _fight_."

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><p><em>Justin walked into the murky bar with a false sense of pride. He thought showing his face here again would be proof that he had moved on and the failures and betrayals with his former affiliates would be like ancient scars buried in the wrinkles of an old man. But he was not there to show that he had forgiven the mistakes of his past. He was there to relive them because he was nowhere near forgiveness.<em>

_But Justin would deny all of this, and sat at the bar instead of the typical corner tables he used to drape. The bartender still recognized him – the world had not forgotten him either apparently – and a whiskey and coke suddenly sat in front of him, ice cubes still shaking against the glass._

_Justin gripped the glass but did not move to drink it. He swirled it around and stared at the marks in the wood. He had never really sat at the bar years earlier – years he shouldn't have spent in a bar – so he didn't recognize the patterns that were cut and worn in the wood, but now he began to think that he would._

_The seat next to him became occupied and Justin could feel the presence on his right. He wondered why someone would sit next to him when the bar was mostly empty, but assumed he wouldn't like the answer and continued staring at the ice cubes dancing in his drink._

"_No shit," a brassy voice sighed beside him. "Never thought I'd see you in here again, Bancroft."_

_Justin wished it was anyone else sitting next to him, but there was no denying the voice. So he turned to face the boy beside him. The bartender set a brown bottle in front of him without interrupting the conversation._

"_Sam," he said it as if it were a hello and a goodbye all at the same time._

_Samson was not an attractive man. He had a rough face and his nose had had a crook _before_ it was broken several times. The crook would be bigger after that night. His black hair was oily from grease, though it being intentional did not improve its appeal. But he was fit and naturally charming, and Justin couldn't help but find him striking now, even after everything._

"_How's life at the fancy prep school?"_

_Justin didn't want to banter with the former object of his affections. He was not former enough for Justin to be comfortable, but he answered anyway, "Simpler."_

_Sam frowned. He wished desperately that things could be what they were years earlier. "I'm sor-"_

"_Don't say it," Justin grumbled, finally raising his drink to his lips._

"_But I mean it," Sam insisted._

_By the time Justin put his drink down, it was mostly gone. "I shouldn't have come here."_

"_But you did."_

_Justin reached into his pocket and left a few coins on the bar. He picked up his glass and poured back the rest before walking out._

_He heard the door stay open too long as he walked away and knew that Sam had followed him out. _

"_Why did you come here, Bancroft?" He spun around at Sam's words._

"_Not to see you," he rolled his eyes, "Which is clearly what you think."_

"_First love dies hard. It does for me, and it does for you," Sam tried to step closer._

_Justin scoffed instead of responding._

"_How did you stay away for so long?" Sam whispered._

"_I haven't seen you knocking on my door," Justin walked away a few more steps, but kept turning to the boy who was following him._

"_It was your turn to forgive _me_. Besides, you were in the States, and as much as I'd _love_ to pay for a plane ticket –"_

"_Stop saying that word, Sam." _

_Justin's eyes were on fire. Sam's eyes got a clever look and he knew what buttons he wanted to push._

"_You were my first love!" he breathed angrily._

"_I'm serious –"_

"_I'm never going to stop loving you, Justin."_

_If Sam had let Justin finish, he might have heard a warning for what would come next. But he didn't listen, and so he didn't expect the right hook that reached his face and sent him tumbling to the ground._

_In seconds, Samson was up and dove at Justin like a lion at prey. After all, fighting was fairly close to the affection of their past, and Sam was also diving desperately at reminiscing. Maybe if Justin just remembered what it was like he could forgive him._

_But in between the punches and kicks there were no tears and there were no memories. Justin was fighting blindly and only thinking about how happy he was that his dad's class ring had a sharp edge to it. _


	2. Delphinium

**Hi everyone! Sorry for the delay. As usual, I do not own Glee or CP Coulter's Dalton.**

**Let me know what you think. I promise, the love triangle will finally play out next chapter.**

It was night time when Merril knocked on Justin's door. He had been on edge since Laura's call the day before, but Merril's soft knock lulled him quickly. She peaked her head in and practically whispered.

"Someone's at the door, Justin. He says he's here for you, and the accent…"

Merril was too thoughtful to not notice the fear in Justin's eyes, but for the same reasons she pretended not to. Instead she offered, "Should I have Spencer tell him to leave? He's waiting with him by the door…"

Justin stood up from his bed too quickly. "No."

He noticed Merril's face fall into a motherly judgment as she left and wondered what she would tell Spencer when they talked later. He wondered what Spencer was thinking now, standing in the presence of Samson. He wondered how _he_ could possibly be in Sam's presence again. This was going to be a train wreck.

Justin bolted down the stairs with the desire to keep Sam from talking to as many people as possible. He didn't want to explain this to people, and he knew the Hanovers wouldn't ask, but if word got around – the Windsors would.

There were many things that Justin hated. Being woken up in the middle of the night for something trivial. Dealing with the fights between Stuart and Windsor. The time of night when Charlie went back to his own dorm. But in an instant, all of Justin's hatred was focused on the fact that his stomach still seemed to jump out of his body when he saw the boy standing at the door.

He was tall but by no means dreamy. Some things were exactly as Justin remembered. His face was still coarse, his nose was still bent, and his brown eyes were still hidden behind his strong prominent eyebrows. But he had cut his hair very short and Justin's mind quickly sorted through images of running his hands through Sam's long hair when it wasn't greased back. The new short hair made his jaw line more pronounced.

Sam's face, unfairly rugged according to Justin, lit up as he saw the boy. The corners of his mouth pushed at his cheeks and his eyes attached to Justin like they would never leave.

Spencer took this hungry look as his cue to leave and mumbled softly, "G'night Justin."

He figured that Justin didn't respond because he didn't hear him, but Justin was rather preoccupied with feeling paralyzed. With the third boy long gone, it was Sam who spoke first.

"You gonna make me stand here all night?"

It startled Justin out of his shell shock.

"It's an idea," Justin grunted, but he couldn't help but smile.

Sam saw the smile and quickly returned it, then dared to attempt a hug. Justin graciously accepted the hug, despite knowing it would only lead to more terrible thoughts. He was afraid it would be too easy to fall back into things with Sam.

"Come on," Justin gestured down the hall as he spoke. "You can crash in my room tonight."

Sam's smirk grew and he grabbed his duffel bag to follow. His eyes appraised the hallway just as they had the campus minutes earlier. Everything was marble. "Fancy digs. Sure is a far cry from Blackheath."

Justin turned to look at Sam and raised an eyebrow before leading him into his room.

"What?" Sam asked, setting his bag down on the floor by the window.

"All this time and you want to talk about how nice my school is?" Justin sat down on his bed facing the boy who stood across the room.

"It seemed like a safer route," Sam answered quickly.

"What are you doing here, Sam?" Justin snapped.

"You didn't seem too surprised to see me." Sam avoided answering Justin's question. "I take it your sister called?"

"She did." Justin didn't let Sam get away with this approach. "Why did you fly all the way out here?"

"Why do you think I came, Justin?" Sam let his smile fall loosely away. "It's all shit without you, man."

"And this occurred to you _now_?" Justin decided if he stopped looking at Sam he could keep himself from sounding emotional. It was a valiant effort. "It's been four years."

"Four shitty years," Sam whispered hoping it would be enough. He knew it wouldn't be. "Look, I came as fast as I could. There was a lot I had to figure out first."

"What, like whether you'd be visiting jail?"

It was fast and bitter, and maybe it should have made Sam sad, but instead it only seemed to anger him. "No, like whether I'd be visiting the other side of town."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"They told me you were spying for the Belé Boys."

"Just because I played for the highest bidder doesn't mean I traded in secrets. I wanted to _remain_ employable."

Sam frowned and stopped yelling. "I know. I figured it out eventually. I should have trusted you."

Justin grunted and smashed his eyes closed, willing the situation to disappear. It was one thing to yell at the boy – he had a right to be angry, after all. But Justin wasn't willing to broach the emotional parts. Not yet. "Alright, never mind, Sam. I've got class in the morning and I can't really have this conversation right now."

"Justin-"

"Not now."

Justin said it in his prefect voice. Sam gave up.

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><p><em>It was dark at the bar where Justin frequently hung out with the 'associates' his parents lectured him about. It was better if you were always questioning exactly what you just saw. The owner of the bar was a smart man who knew how to keep the special customers happy.<em>

_Justin sat at a table in the corner with three other men. He knew one of them - only as Kay, but he had worked with him a lot; recognized another one of them - Samson, who was a lackey for the gang Justin was currently affiliated with; and did not know the third – he was a large man who didn't speak enough to reveal his accent and didn't drink enough to reveal his character. He was a friend of Kay's, but that didn't really mean anything to Justin._

_Kay was a confident man, but for him that meant he only spoke when he had conviction to it. And Mr. Mysterious beside Kay was nursing his beer like it was all the conversation he needed._

_Feeling just as awkward as Justin, Samson gestured to the door and showed the pack of cigarettes he had just pulled out of his pocket. Justin hopped up quickly and followed the boy out, eager to get away from the two older men._

_Outside, Sam handed Justin a cigarette, lighting it once it sat in between Justin's lips._

"_That guy's fucking creepy," he said, taking a drag of his own. "And that's saying a lot, considering my usual company."_

"_Who Kay or the other guy?"_

"_Both," Sam laughed. "The other guy. I'm used to Kay."_

_Justin scoffed lightly, knowing the same was true of him. "Who knew that there was someone _less_ talkative than Kay."_

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><p>"<em>Kay, what are we doing at the kiddie table?"<em>

_Justin never did hear it, but the fourth man at the table spoke with an accent somewhere between Russian and Greek._

"_Calm down, Cecil," Kay rolled his eyes in a brotherly way and whispered with a hiss. "I can play with the big boys whenever I want; I'm still getting a feel for them."_

"_So these two babies…they're Corgot boys?" Taking the hint, he matched the man's volume._

"_No, only the one is. The black haired one is. But the other boy – Bancroft – doesn't have any allegiance. He's the 'Brat Prince,' you know, on the news?"_

"_So your companions are a junior gang member and a bored rich-kid. Kegan, you're nowhere near playing with the big boys, are you?"_

_Kay flinched at something but spoke with confidence. "I'm _always_ near playing with the big boys. People are easy to convince when you know how. And people at the bottom always give away the best information. I'll have something good in no time."_

"_And then what?" Cecil rolled his eyes._

"_Then I'll go talk to a guy they call Papa Moore."_

"_Is he the _capo_?" he asked with a flourish and further eye rolling._

"_This isn't the Godfather, Cecil-"_

"_Stop acting like I don't know what I'm talking about. We all tried to pick up where Pap left off."_

"_Stop acting like a fucking snob then. And just because I'm staying in the family business doesn't mean I'm trying to pick up where Pap left off."_

"_Whatever you say Ke-"_

"_It's _Kay, _Cecil."_

"_Whatever you say, _Kay_."_

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><p><em>Justin and Sam each sat on the curb leaning on their hands, forgetting about the bar behind them and how much their wrists would hurt if they sat this way for long. <em>

"_What are you doing here, man?" Sam asked with a disbelieving laugh._

"_What do you mean?"_

"_I mean you're the Brat Prince, aren't you?" _

_Justin furrowed his eyebrows and pouted slightly. He grunted, "Yea."_

"_So, your face is too recognizable for you to ever get the anonymity you need to get high up here. What's the point?"_

_Samson was right. Justin knew he would always be a spoiled rich kid lashing out against his parents to the men he worked with. He was barely old enough to hear this truth every day and not try to contradict it. Sure he had the first time. And it was only after hearing the same mocking phrase every new encounter that Justin finally accepted it. Maybe it was time to recognize his own faults. _

_But all of the wisdom acquired in his regularly scheduled mocking could not make the young teenager a man. He was still a boy and he was still liable to get irrationally angry at hearing his truth._

_This time he managed to sulk instead of yelling. "It's just…something to do."_

"_What for when you get tired of your butler doing everything for you?"_

_Justin scowled. "I don't have a butler."_

_Sam couldn't tell if he was lying, but it didn't matter. Sam laughed and leaned on one arm to take another drag._

"_So what, your pop's a deadbeat and you fell into a life of crime to put food on the table for your mum and little brother?"_

_Justin's response caught Sam off guard. He cocked his head and looked at Justin with narrowed eyes and an apprehensive smirk. _

"_Well if I'm gonna be a stereotype to you, I figured I should make you one to match," Justin clarified – unnecessarily – with a smug glare that was not convincingly angry._

_Sam studied Justin with a smile and finally asked, "Anyone ever tell you you're a funny guy?"_

"_Anyone ever tell you you're a funny looking guy?"_

"_All the time," Samson laughed, leaning his weight from one hand to the other without even a moment's thought as to why._


End file.
